George: Lost in Time
by grandis-dans-les-bois
Summary: Behind the scenes of a raging battle, a dark shadow seemed to pass the land. As Death claimed more and more, the ones left to fight became less and less. The whole world, both Magical and Muggle, is being purged by those who want to start all over...who's to stop them? George Weasley...now that's a possibility.
1. Chapter 1

George whistled absent-mindedly as he set about straightening things in his shop, Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Not that anything needed straightening out, but his mind was wandering, and he needed to do something with his hands.

He was thinking about, surprisingly, the Battle of Hogwarts. Or the Hogwarts Massacre. Take your pick.

That was the last time he had seen most of his family alive, so one would suspect that he avoided the topic. But George, after years of dealing with dead loved ones, knew that it didn't matter- it was just another day in the war. At least, another day in the Second War.

They had about a month of peace afterwards. Barely enough time to recover. But it was enough time to instill hope in them all that the dark days were over. Regrettably, George had spent most of that time throwing himself in his work. He barely saw the rest off his family and friends, as he was foolishly preoccupied with the death of one.

Soon after, though, the first incident happened.

A family of four, all purebloods, were murdered in their sleep.

There was no indication of what had happened, as George himself went to see, at the request of desperate family trying to pull him out of his "depression". That became a long trail of similar raids. It was only at the one that attacked the Burrow, killing all but one of the Weasley clan, did George snap himself enough out of it enough to care.

It only went on from there. Anyone who showed any sign of magic at any point in their life was killed, as punishment for those that stood up for their lives. Anyone who didn't know what magic is was killed, as punishment for being so ignorant. Soon, it was evident that Voldemort had a much larger gathering of followers than anyone else had expected. It was even worse than before, with at least one person in every wizarding family turning to the other side.

Friends.

Family.

Neighbors.

It was devastating, and it took its toll.

Now, a full year and a half after the first attack, there were scarcely any humans, both magical and muggle, left on the planet. It was utterly ironic, and utterly stupid, that the former followers of old Voldie were planning to purge the world of Muggles- the new one, of the magical and mundane alike. Now, the only thing left was the scattered remains of humanity, all banding together in a desperate attempt to survive. Because that's all it really is about, in the end, isn't it?

George himself was part of a group, who named themselves the DA out of nostalgia. It included him, Angelina Johnson, Lavender Brown, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy (surprisingly), and obviously, Harry Freaking Potter. That kid could survive everything. It was somehow infuriating, yet George knew it wasn't his fault. That didn't stop him from cursing Harry every time something went wrong.

They all were the only ones left in their family line, a fact made much more devastating considering how old and big some of these families were.

They all also had some sort of role in the group. Harry was the one who stupidly and nobly charged headfirst into stuff, as well as being the figurehead.

Angelina was sort of like a helpful assistant, along with Lavender, and they both were formidable fighters and amazing healers.

Draco (George stopped calling him Malfoy or slimy snake after about two weeks, which, if you told him that he would a month ago, he would've spit in your face and called you a Slytherin) was the 'military chief'. Meaning he brewed potions for attack, drew up battle plans, and carried most of the supplies.

Luna was also very smart, and helped with strategizing. She had dropped her usually dreamy look when Neville was killed, and now wore a near permanent frown. George treated her like his own sister, though she would never replace Ginny.

George's job was kind of like Angelina and Lavender, though instead of healing the physical state, he healed the mind. He was the jokester, always saying horrible puns in the worst moments (which, in his opinion, were the best moments) in order to lighten the mood. He was also the one most people turned to in case they caught a wave of nostalgia, or felt like crying.

As a result, he barely had the time to feel sorry for himself. And George was fine with that. Every time he felt frustrated with his role, he'd remind himself that he was the eldest (well, mostly), and technically the most mature (again, mostly).

Also, the others have experienced more trauma then he has, he told himself. Even with the burning of the Burrow, George was sure that Harry had been hurt just as much, or maybe even more. After all, he doted Ginny, found a mother in Mrs. Weasley, and was best friends with Ron. And probably a much closer brother than George ever was. It made him feel both guilty and resigned.

Not only that, but he was sure Angelina and...his brother had something going on. So she must also be pretty hurt (Understatement of the year...or month. Not really sure.). And Lavender, well, he didn't really want to go there.

Now, the group was just roaming about, helping any stragglers, and doing their best to sting the main force, as pitiful as those attempts were. And as pitiful the main force already is.

George had asked to see his shop before they left the area. Harry, who is also the decision maker, seemed doubtful at first, but then the others chimed in with places they wanted to see, and he relented. George was grateful, and a bit disappointed. He had kind of hoped that Harry would say no.

So here he was, standing in the shop he and his deceased brother had made. Surprisingly, he didn't flinch at the reminder of his brother's death. He was coping, if a bit slowly. Never mind that he couldn't even bring himself to say his name.

The place was exactly the same as they had left it, though it was a little dusty. It gave George a kind of somber pleasure to see the faded orange and purple walls, the cobwebbed shelves that previously held all their products, the scorch marks from prank supplies gone wrong.

He walked aimlessly, fingers trailing the dusty walls. George went to the back room, where most of their extra supplies were kept. The stores were now empty, as they all had been used to help in the war. George would make some more, but it required time, time that he didn't have.

He looked through the empty boxes, checking all the shelves and doors, not really expecting anything, so he was surprised when he found a little box below the false bottom of a cabinet.

The box was orange, with a purple W, looking like the other Weasley issued boxes. The only thing different was the inked in red spot on the top of the W. It looked like someone had splattered paint over the box, but George could see that it had been meticulously drawn in. Odd.

He carefully opened the box, wary of a prank, but no such thing happened. Inside the box, there was a slip of paper, and a golden hourglass.

Looking at the paper, which was muggle paper, he noticed, George could see that it was written on in dark blue ink.

There, in curly yet messy script, was written:

 _Use it well_

He frowned. Use it well? What did that mean? He turned the hourglass over in his hand, trying to find what was so special about it. He turned the paper over, and spotted more words.

 _Clue: Time_

 _13_

Suddenly, George was pulled into a flashback.

* * *

 _"Hey, George!" An 11-year-old Fred said suddenly. George turned to his brother, who was sitting on the edge of his bed in their dormitory in Gryffindor Tower._

 _"Yeah?" George plopped down next to him._

 _"What's your favorite number?" Fred asked._

 _George frowned. "Why so random?"_

 _"Well, we're twins, right?" Fred started to explain. "And we wanted to act similar. That includes liking the same stuff." The two had come to Hogwarts to try and confuse the teachers and students with their similarities, and as first years, weren't very elaborate about it. Sure, they had managed to confuse their family before, but they wanted to take it to a whole new level._

 _"Oh." George nodded. "Well, I guess it would be...13?"_

 _"Huh? Why?" Fred cocked his head, confused._

 _George shrugged. "Just felt like it."_

 _"You know that Muggles consider it unlucky, right?"_

 _"Stupid Muggles." That statement caused Fred to laugh._

 _"Ah, whatever." He grinned even more widely, and slung an arm around George's shoulder, a gesture that was returned. "I guess 13 is my favorite number as well, now."_

 _"Yeah, I guess so." George grinned mischievously, before giving his brother a noogie._

* * *

George blinked as he came to. He was now sitting on the ground, hand still clutching the paper and hourglass.

Where the hell had that come from?

He looked at the hourglass, not bothering to get back up.

If his suspicions were right...

George knew what he was about to do was foolish, absolutely foolish, but an intoxicating feeling overcame him before he could stop himself. A feeling of joy, thrill, longing, and a little bit of mischief. A feeling so nostalgic of back when he was still doing pranks, that he almost crushed the hourglass with his fist. Almost. It probably would've been good idea to that on purpose, considering what happened afterwards.

Almost giddily, he took the time turner, and turned the hourglass. And turned, and turned, and turned. He lost count after 50.

When he finally stopped, nothing happened. George waited eagerly, but his hope died with every second that ticked by.

Finally, he made to get up, and accidently dropped the time turner. The second it hit the ground, there was a loud pop, like Apparating, and George Weasley was gone.

* * *

George reappeared with another pop in Dumbledore's office. Of course.

Because of that, he found himself up against the wall, Dumbledore's wand at his throat. Dumbledore was gripping it tightly, and his expression was calm, but guarded. The usually present twinkle in his eyes was gone.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice threatening.

"I-I'm George Weasley." George stuttered slightly, not entirely used to this Dumbledore, and cursing himself for it. When Dumbledore did not lower his wand, he hastily added, "You can use Veritaserum."

George figured he can tell everything about what had happened to Dumbledore. He's Dumbledore, so of course he can. All Dumbledore ever did was look out for them...by being manipulative and lying to their faces. Yeah, maybe he ought to rethink this.

A few minutes filled with convincing, lying, a few oaths, and at one point, hexes, he was seated in a chair, with a cup of tea in front of him, injected with a few drops of Veritaserum.

"Wait.." George said slowly. It was very much possible that this Dumbledore was an imposter. He decided to ask a simple question that, based on Harry's stories, would definitely prove that it was Dumbledore.

"What present would you like for Christmas?" Dumbledore blinked at the sudden question, but nonetheless he answered.

"A thick pair of woolen socks, I suppose." There was approval in his eyes.

George nodded, relieved. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd do if it wasn't Dumbledore.

"What year is it?" George asked before drinking.

Dumbledore gave him a strange look. "1973. Why?"

George's eyes widened, and then he let out a stream of curses that are entirely not appropriate for anyone younger than 18. Of _course_. Dumbledore looked much younger, and he didn't count how many times he turned the time turner.

He was so _stupid_! Why had he decided to randomly turn a foreign object, which the stupid notion of going back in time? For all he knew, it could be Dark. For all he knew, it could be a trap. For all he knew, it could be designed to _send him so far back that he would be next to useless, with no way of getting back!_ He was losing his touch.

"You mean to tell me, it's bloody 1973!?" He jumped up and started pacing furiously, muttering under his breath, and most likely completely convincing Dumbledore that he was completely mental. But more pressing matters were on his mind. For one, how is he supposed to get back? The DA needed him. Well, at least, that's what he liked to think.

He collapsed back in the chair, running his hand through his unruly red hair, which, if George was being truthful, he hasn't washed in months.

Dumbledore looked even more confused (a sight George never thought he would see), before his expression cleared.

"Ah. You are a time traveller." George momentarily stopped, confused, before nodding. It's Dumbledore. He knows everything.

"From year...?"

"1996." George frowned. "Or 1997. I'm not sure." Excuse: He didn't really keep track of the days. He had been on the run for so long, he forgot to keep track of time, nonetheless which year it was, nor birthdates.

"Considering your, reaction, you did not mean too end up this far back?"

"Definitely." George slumped. "I was planning on 7 or 8 years."

"Well, that is quite a problem isn't it?" Dumbledore threaded his fingers thoughtfully. "And how old were you when you came back?"

"18."

"Hm." Dumbledore looked faintly amused. "Well, you look much younger."

George observed himself in surprise. Then he remembered the paper.

"Yeah, I think I'm 13 again." He said slowly.

"Oh? How so?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"Well, I found this time turner and a slip of paper. On the paper were the words 'You know what to do', 'Time', and '13'. I assume that was to say..."

"How old you would be when you went back." Dumbledore finished. "Well, Mr. Weasley, as you are here now, I feel it is only acceptable to have you go to Hogwarts as a student, at least until we find a way to send you back."

"What?!" George nearly shouted. "That's-" Then he stopped, and thought it over. "Okay, actually, that's sensible. Though it'll be hell to go through all those classes again."

"Quite." The twinkle was back in Dumbledore's eye, which George was glad of. It was quite unnerving otherwise. "Now, let me go over some necessities with you..."

The tea slowly grew cold as the hours ticked past, Veritaserum long forgotten.

* * *

George sat in the chair in the Headmaster's office, mulling over the information he had just absorbed.

He was back in the past. And not just any past, but the time where Lily and James Potter were at Hogwarts, in their third year, coincidentally the same year as him. Harry Potter's parents. Harry Freaking Potter Who Can Get Through Anything With Just Luck's dead parents. Great.

Though the thought of rooming with the Marauders kind of excited him, he still was disappointed. He was hoping to go back to when his brother was still alive, in order to prevent it. Now he couldn't, obviously, as he was way more than seven years back.

At least he could change the lives of Harry's parents. Dumbledore said that he could change somethings, but it it impossible to change people's deaths. One can tell someone else when and how they would die, and take steps to avoid it, but one way or another, they still will move on, whether in a more gruesome way or more peaceful.

It's like Fate decided to have an end to every string, and you could never go past the end, nor cut it shorter. (Following this line of thought, George started wondering what his string's color would be. Maybe orange?)

It was a rule of Time- the timing of a death shall stay the same forever. Which stank like a dungbomb prank gone wrong. George had started shouting and cursing the second he had heard that, and knocked over nearly half of Dumbledore's gadgets. He blamed it on Dumbledore for not being better prepared with durable tools instead of glass ones.

But he could still change their lives, just not their deaths. And George was looking forward to doing just that.

Oh, to get Sirius out of his horrid house much earlier, to have the Wolfsbane potion be invented much earlier, to have James and Lily date much earlier, to make Pettigrew stay loyal forever...the last one might be pushing it.

George was slightly suspicious on how Dumbledore knew all this. When questioned, the old headmaster just waved his hand and vaguely answered that he had done some research in the past. Sure, whatever you say.

Afterwards, he and Dumbledore spent a bit of time making up his cover story. It was lucky he was a Weasley- the family was so big, no one could keep track of it.

Apparently it was the morning of September 1st. Was it a coincidence? George thought not, considering that when he left, he was pretty sure it was mid-December. Maybe.

Professor McGonagall was supposed to bring him to a place to stay until the students arrive, but she hasn't arrived yet.

Originally, they were going to send him to Kings Cross in order to go on train "for tradition sake" as Dumbledore put it. But they decided against that, partly in order to allow George some well-needed time to settle down.

So now, here he was, just waiting for Dumbledore to come back. He had left a little while earlier in order to "warn the staff of your presence", as he put it. But George doubted that.

Just he started contemplating leaving by himself, the door to the study opened, and in walked Dumbledore, followed by McGonagall. With a start, George noticed McGonagall looked much younger, but still had that strict look on face that only ever disappeared when her students were in danger. That had been her downfall, and she had died in the second attack on Hogwarts.

George mentally shook himself. He has to stop comparing how the people of this time died, or he was going to be seen as a crybaby every time he met someone new.

"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore smiled. "Don't worry, she knows. But none of the others do." George nodded in response. "Now, Professor, if you could please take to where he will be staying until the rest of the students come?" McGonagall nodded, and strode quickly out the door. George followed.

"Now, Mr. Weasley, " McGonagall said in a no-nonsense voice. "I trust that you will obey all the limitations the Headmaster has put for people of your kind." George knew she was talking about how he was a time traveler, and nodded.

"You were in Gryffindor, correct?" Again, George nodded, and thought he saw McGonagall's face relax a bit.

They stayed silent for the rest of the journey, until they stopped on the seventh floor, in front of a wall that George knew all too well.

"This is the Room of Requirement." McGonagall started. "To activate it-" "I know." George interrupted. "I found it when I was at Hogwarts." Well, technically, Harry found it, but George wasn't sure if he could tell her that, nor that it was destroyed.

"Oh." McGonagall seemed a bit flustered. "Well, then, that's where you'll be staying." She strode off without so much of a goodbye.

"What a warm welcome." He mumbled under his breath, a bit glad that his sarcasm hadn't faded away along with the rest of his old life.

It was an honorary weapon, sarcasm, that George was proud to say that he was an artful master of. It was very useful in infuriating those you don't like, as in Draco Malfoy. Just because they were on the same team, doesn't mean they're going to hold hands and skip in circles, singing muggle love songs. Though that would be a good prank...

George walked past the wall three times, feeling a bit stupid despite the fact that no one was there. He opened the door that appeared (Like magic!) and walked in.

Unsurprisingly, the resulting room was a lot like the Gryffindor Common Room, just a bit less red and gold. In fact, it was themed orange and purple, which gave George mixed feelings.

There were a few beds in one corner, all looking just as comfy as the ones found in the dorms. George hasn't slept in a proper bed since the last time they raided an old Muggle hotel, about a month ago. His back could use some memory foam.

Yawning, he stumbled his way over to one of the beds. Why did they have to be so far away?

A bed zoomed towards him, stopping a few feet from him. He blinked. Well, that was convenient.

Grabbing an also convenient biscuit from a conveniently placed table, he collapsed on top of the bed. Not five-star, but who was he to be picky? He assumed that the room took food straight from the kitchens, because he was sure that food couldn't just be conjured out of thin air, a feat he had always tried, until Harry said it was impossible due to some Law...George has no idea how Harry knows all that. He didn't really care either, as long as he got food.

Rolling over to face the ceiling, (which, he noted was the same starry sky ceiling as one may find in the Great Hall at night, though it definitely was not night) he couldn't help but laugh out loud.

For no reason, of course, other then that he needed some kind of outlet that rolls all his emotions in one noise, no matter how lighthearted that noise is supposed to. No one was there to watch and call him a psychopath for laughing randomly. He wouldn't outright deny it, but it would most likely be slightly awkward.

So he laughed some more. And more. Then fell asleep, because laughing randomly can make someone feel tired.

[][][][]

 **A/N:** So, first chapter done! This is going to be a story that I mainly am using in an attempt to make my writing better, and satisfy my thirst for writing a HP fanfic.

As you can see, George isn't acting much like his usual self as seen in the books and movies. Obviously, he has been through much more than the JKR George, and the JKR George was also always seen with Fred, so any judge on their character would be on their twin act, as rarely are they both ever without the other. But don't worry, later on I'll have George revert back to his old self. Well, as much as one can after losing his twin.

On that note, I do intend for there to be some angst. It just may not come in concentrated forms until much story will stick mostly to canon in the beginning, but George's appearance will change the general plotline. There will also be very little romance, except for the obvious James/Lily. I have no plan for George's lovelife as of right now.

Since this is my first HP or Marauder Era fanfic, I need reviewers to be nitpicks with me and tell me any Americanisms that will definitely be there, and I would appreciate it! Just no flames, constructive criticism is fine.

This is one of my much longer chapters (Over 3,000 words!), and I plan for the others to be the same. hopefully it will make up for the long wait in between the updates.

See ya!...maybe in a month or two.

UWttS

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own most of the characters, just plotline. This counts for all further chapters, 'cuz I won't be able to remember to post this disclaimer on every single one.


	2. Chapter 2

George would've liked to wake up to the cheerful sound of birds chirping, to beautiful sun shining on his face, to amazing smells of the most delicious foods dancing around his nose. Instead, he woke up to sharp rapping coming from the door.

Better then Harry's wake up call, at least. No buckets, feathers, or any fluids were involved...oh, the glories of being back in time.

He stumbled out of bed, glancing at a (very convenient) clock to check the time. The train had arrived, but the students were probably still on the carriages or boats.

"Coming!" He called in response to another knock. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair, and realized that he had slept in his robes. Trying to straighten them out as much as he can, George quickly strode towards the door, stumbling a bit because of his now too-long-for-his-body legs.

He flung it open, nearly hitting McGonagall in the process. She pursed her lips, taking in his rumpled state. Taking out her wand, she quickly waved it over George, muttering some obscene spell. Immediately his robes became presentable, and his hair was slicked down. Well, that was one way to do it.

"Thanks." He muttered. With a quick nod, McGonagall strode away, leaving George nearly running to catch up. Stupid 13 year old legs. He had a feeling he would be cursing them a lot.

Soon they reached a big room, which George recognized as the one first years would wait in before getting sorted. He let out a groan. He was going to be sorted in a sea of munchkins. What an amazing way to make a first impression.

"You shall wait here for your sorting, while I go fetch the other first years. Behave." McGonagall said briskly, before turning around and walking off.

George stared open mouthed after her. Did she really just leave him all by himself, with only the slight admonishing of "Behave"?

His mouth quirked up in a manic grin as he thought of all the pranking possibilities. Oh, those poor, ickle, firsties.

George sat down with a sigh. He couldn't pull a prank now. For one, it was too early in the year (Yes, he was trying to be responsible for once), especially considering that he didn't want the first-years to have a bad first impression of Hogwarts. The stronger reason was that he knew that one of the people among the first years was Regulus Black, and if he was going to become friends with him, then it wouldn't do well to prank him.

To pass the time, George bemoaned and moped in self-pity that he wouldn't be able to pull a prank. Oh, what has the world come to?

Before he knew it, the munchkins had arrived. Not many paid attention to him, too preoccupied with nervousness and excitement, though a few spared him an odd glance. George searched the crowd for a black head, but there were too many to tell which is which.

George was glad that he still had his hat with him. Having a missing ear would only complicate things.

McGonagall gave the usual speech, and led them to the Great Hall. George's knees became weak as he stared around at the familiar, yet somehow detached, room. It's magnificence made him long for the days when his actual age was 13, and he was sitting with his twin brother, eager for the feast.

A lump firmly situated in his throat, he gazed around the room, taking note of the slightly different teachers sitting at their table. He avoided looking at the Gryffindor table for reasons he couldn't, or didn't want to disconcert.

In his nostalgia-induced daze, he had missed the Sorting Hat's song, and the first few were being called.

"Aberin, Riz!" McGonagall called out, a girl with short brown hair stumbled up. She seemed to deliberately take her time, carefully sitting down and smoothing out her skirt before allowing the hat to be put on her.

"Ravenclaw!"

"Abernathy, Gray!" A unusually tall boy with close cropped hair hurried up to the stool. Unlike the girl before him, the boy seemed to want to get this over with as soon as possible. Also unlike the other girl, there seemed to be a sense of carelessness around him, as if he didn't care what house he was sorted in.

"Hufflepuff!"

George didn't know whether it was just him paying closer attention than usual, or if all those times being the DA's psychologist made him really good at reading faces.

He continued to observe the first years, wondering if he was the same way when he first came to Hogwarts. He hopes not- some of them were just downright embarrassing.

Soon, "Black, Regulus" was called. George leaned forward in anticipation, even though he already knew where he'd be Sorted. The whole Hall seemed to catch their breath. Would the youngest Black be sorted into Gryffindor like his rebel brother, or put in Slytherin like his traditional family?

As expected, Regulus was put in Slytherin amidst numerous cheers and a few sighs of relief. George eyed the lean boy critically. Regulus held himself with an air of self-importance, back ramrod straight. He had a cold mask like all the aristocratic purebloods do, and didn't show the childlike exuberance that was present in all the other first years.

George felt a small surge of hatred. Even if Regulus did defy Voldemort in the end, he still joined him as a Death Eater, and therefore helped kill most of the world's population, though indirectly.

Coming out of his slightly vengeful thoughts, George heard that McGonagall was now going through the T's. He felt a twinge of excitement, but it was soon engulfed by a wave of nervousness. In short order, he would be called up and subjected to the unnerving stares of most of the Hall as they watched a distinctly taller and older boy go up to be Sorted.

Sure enough, when he finally was called, what felt like a million watchful eyes turned on him like lasers, honing in for attack. At least, that's what it felt like. George knew that barely anyone paid attention to the Sorting, except to clap. George felt sorry for Harry if he had endured this during his days of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes sought out George's, but he didn't dare look. He kept his face wiped, trying to achieve the pureblood mask that Draco always seemed to carry, just without the extra shot of haughtiness.

George managed to get up to the stool with no incident, though when he sat down he felt dangerously close to toppling off.

 _Well, well. What do we have here?_

George nearly did fall off the stool at the voice. He completely forgot about that part. Composing his face into a blank gaze for the audience outside, he replied.

 _You've already Sorted me before._

 _Yes. So I guess we should go through this quickly. You'l obviously be in..._

"Gryffindor!" The wizarding hat shouted to the rest of the halls, and the table erupted into cheers.

George took off the hat, giving it to McGonagall, before striding off to the very familiar table, where four distinct boys were muttering to each other and laughing. He sat down, shaking a few hands and warding off a few curious questions, and looked towards the hat once more, careful not to meet Dumbledore's eyes.

"Welcome to Gryffindor." The boy next to him said, smiling.

"Er, thanks." George shook his hand. Looking closer, the boy looked somewhat familiar, with brown hair and a faint scar among his facial features.

When the Sorting was over, Dumbledore rose. George blinked as the owl on the front of Dumbledore's podium woke up and stretched. Was that always there?

"Students." Dumbledore spread his arms wide, and George couldn't help but think it looked as if he was about to hug someone. The image of Dumbledore hugging a giant body length teddy bear set him off in a fit of silent giggles.

"Before we enjoy our wonderful feast, I have a notice for everyone. As some of you may have noticed, we have a new student among us. One that is much older than the standard first years." He gestured in the general direction of George, stood up and bowed, feigning confidence amongst the chuckles.

"He is a transfer student from Uagadu, and will be joining the third years. Please treat him kindly, and with respect."

George wanted to sink in his seat. Instead he just put on an arrogant grin.

"The rest of the announcements will be said after the feast. Now, let us start!" With his usual cheer, Dumbledore snapped his fingers, and everyone dove into the food with ecstasy.

"So you'll be in our year." The boy who had greeted him earlier looked him over. "I'm Remus Lupin." George bit back a gasp.

"George Weasley." George responded, swallowing a wave of nervousness. He had never fully gotten over the childish exaltation he and his brother held for the Marauders- they extolled them, and now George was actually meeting them, he felt a surge of regret that his brother couldn't do the same. _Push it down, George. Don't get lost in memories._

"I guess you'll be rooming with us." Another boy spoke, leaning across the table. "James Potter, by the way." He added. George could tell that pretty easily. He really did look exactly Harry.

"This is Sirius." James pointed at a boy with unnerving grey eyes and long black hair. Sirius raised a hand in greeting, and George was struck by the differences between this boy and the man who escaped from Azkaban. He looked far too happy, and much less burdened.

"That's Peter." George bit back a growl as James pointed at a slightly plump boy with watery eyes.

"Hello." George nodded at each in turn. There was an awkward silence, in which George fiddled with his hat and piled food onto his plate. He missed Hogwarts food...

"So...are you guys pranksters?" George decided to ask. If these really were the Marauders, then they had to love pranks, right?

"Of course!" Sirius burst out, nodding.

"We're the best ones here." James agreed.

"Oh, really?" George smirked. "At my old school, pranking was one of my favorite pastimes. So, Black, Potter. I'm wondering how Hogwarts pranks work."

Sirius sent a slightly feral grin. "Well, then. Jamesie, I think we need to show the newbie just how pranks work around here."

"I agree, Siri." The two sent identical grins, and Remus groaned.

"Now you've set them off." He sighed, and Peter chuckled next to him.

George grinned. Not only had he gotten into the Marauders good graces, he also got an excuse to prank. Perfect.

"What was your old school like?" Remus turned to him after berating James and Sirius.

"You haven't heard of it?" George got ready to spin his web of lies. "It's pretty far away. In Africa."

"Really? What do they teach there?" Peter asked.

"Well, they focus more on Self-Transfiguration then they do here, at least that's what Dumbledore told me." Dumbledore gave him any other details that may be asked of him, just in case. Also, George hoped that the Self-Transfiguration fact will encourage them to help ask him for help on Remus's condition.

While part of the DA, George learned how to become Animagi, because it could've been useful in the war. Dumbledore didn't really know that, but he didn't need to know everything, did he?

Sure enough, James, Sirius, and Peter stiffened. Remus continued to eat obliviously. Maybe they haven't told him yet?

"I mean, I don't really know enough to compare the classes." George continued. "But I expect that it will be better then over there-" George waved offhandedly, "-because why else here?" Remus nodded in agreement.

"Well we have Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Defense..." Remus trailed off. "Do you have that at Wagudu?"

"It's Uagadu." George corrected. "Yeah, we have something like that."

"Interesting."

George nodded uncomfortably. Suddenly, James nudged Remus.

"It's time, you know, for the thing." George heard James's whisper loud and clear.

Remus nodded and response, and the four all got out their wands. They started muttering some spells under the table, and George was surprised that no one noticed the sparks. Maybe it was normal behavior from this group.

"Mind if I get in on the fun?" George whispered, and somehow all four heard and jumped.

"Bloody hell!" Sirius whispered furiously. "Warn us before you do that, mate."

"Oh, right." George nodded. He then turned to Remus, and poked him repeatedly, intoning "Warning, warning." before turning back. "So, what're you doing?" It's insanely fun to act like a thirteen year old again.

James chuckled and Sirius cracked a smile. Peter continued to wave his wand about, but his arm wavered.

"You'll see." Remus muttered, ignoring George's previous actions, and resuming his spellwork.

Once the wands were put away, they all resumed eating as if nothing had happened.

Dumbledore rose not long afterwards, and silence fell.

"Now that we are full with our wonderful feast..." George's mind stopped listening, though his face looked as attentive as the rest of the students. He was too busy trying to figure out what those spells did.

Soon, Dumbledore wrapped up his speech. "Students will follow the prefects to their dormitories, and..." More and more students were pointing up at the teacher's table, whispering and muttering with the person beside them.

Eventually the increasing amount of mumblings prompted Dumbledore turned to look, and he saw...nothing. Confused, but not showing it, he turned back.

George was the first one let out a chuckle. Once it escaped his lips, he put his head down on the table in full born laughter.

Mirth erupted across all tables; even the pristine Slytherins were smiling. A few even fell out of their seats, and had to be pulled up by their giggling neighbors. The teachers looked more and more baffled as time went on, though a particular teacher was staring at the gryffindor table.

Suddenly, one shrieked as they finally saw what was happening.

George was sure they wouldn't be thankful considering their new attire.

* * *

"That was brilliant!" George exploded once they were out of the Great Hall. "How'd you do it?"

"I'm shocked!" Sirius collapsed against James dramatically, hand over heart. "Are you saying that we innocent souls committed that monstrosity?"

"No, I'm saying that Babbity Rabbity did it." George deadpanned.

"Well, we researched a lot over the summer." Peter grinned, watching James shove Sirius to the floor, which Sirius retaliated to by tripping him.

"Yeah, took us forever to find the animal head spell." Remus added. "James finally found it in a book in his parent's library."

"Then, we spent weeks practicing it." Sirius grimaced from his position on the floor. "Let's just say a lot of glamour charms were needed to hide our own animal heads."

"And then we used a time spell that Remus found last year that delayed the effects until we want it to happen." James added.

George whistled. "Wow, that must've taken a long time."

"Yeah, all summer." Peter groaned, before smiling. "But it was worth it." George had to agree. Seeing Dumbledore with a rabbit head, and McGonagall with a dog head was hilarious, made even more so by their shocked expressions.

"And they don't suspect you?"

"Oh, they think it's us." James smirked. "But they can't prove it. How would four third years be able to pull off such complex transfiguration spells? Well, the fact is..." James got close to George's year, a blank expression on his face. "We're special!" He whispered dramatically, before backing up and grinning.

George smiled back, and watched bemusedly as Sirius tripped James, eliciting a full-on wrestling match.

"Potter! Black!" A redheaded girl stormed up to them, her tie flying up and nearly hitting her in the face. She ignored it in favor of yelling at the two boys on the floor in front of her.

"Hey, Evans." Sirius smirked up at her. "You need anything? Or are you finally coming to confess your love for Jamesie?" James whacked him on the head, blushing.

Suddenly, George realized who the redhead was. Harry's mother. Lily Evans. Of course.

George was so caught up in this piece of information that he didn't notice the banter between Lily and Sirius and James until she walked away in much the same manner as she had entered with.

"Mate, I don't know why you like her." Sirius shook his head.

"Sod off." James said offhandedly, distracted by Lily walking ahead of them with her head aloft. By now they had reached the rest of the group who had nearly reached the painting.

Remus noticed this, and apparently he decided to start acting like one of the prefects. He started to explain the passwords and how to get around. It would've been less irritating if this actually is George's first time.

The portraits opened, and they entered the common room. George soaked up the warmth and familiarity it seemed to exude.

"Hey, this way." Sirius prodded his arm, and cocked his head in the direction of the dorms. George had been inadvertently drifting towards the couch near one of the many fireplaces, where he and his brother had spent many a night planning and plotting.

They climbed up the stairs, and entered the door marked for them.

"You four are the only first years? Small load." George commented as he walked over to the only bed that hasn't been claimed yet, and unpacked his trunk.

"Yeah." James nodded. "Weird, isn't it?"

"Anyway, it's question time!" Sirius grinned, and leaned forward from his post on his bed.

"Why did you transfer now?" Peter started the questionnaire.

"Because of some problems back home." Seeing James open his mouth, George hurriedly added, "Can't tell you exactly what. Security."

"Why Hogwarts, then?"

"Uagada became too difficult and dangerous. Again, security."

"Your parents?"

"Dead."

A stifling silence draped over them like thick velvet curtains, and George knew he needed to play this off better.

"They died a few months ago, in an attack." George continued in a softer voice. "Along with the rest of my family. Sorry, but I'd rather not talk about it."

Any other questions considering his family never came after that, but most of the other questions were answered with the easiest excuse - "Security."

"Security, security!" Sirius exploded. "Just answer the bloody question!"

"Forgive me for wanting to keep safe." George answered dryly, staring at all of them with a raised eyebrow and steeled eyes.

"And why are you worrying about staying safe?" James was visibly getting annoyed.

"I don't know. Maybe because my family was blown to bits, and I may be the next target?" His voice, which had been steady until now, cracked. George was nothing if not a good liar, especially when it was partially true.

"Sorry." Remus broke the short silence.

"Not your apology."

Cue another awkward silence.

"Never mind, it's fine." George stood up, unable to keep his quiet in the tension.

"No, no. We really are sorry. We shouldn't have pried." Sirius spoke up, eyes downcast slightly.

"It's fine."

"But-"

"It's fine!" George turned around and gave them a half smile. "Now, are all Hogwarts students this boring, or is it just you lot?"

A pillow immediately caught him in the chest, and was retaliated with equal vehemence, hitting Sirius full in the face. Soon all four were involved in the Pillow Battle of Hogwarts Gryffindor Boy Dorms I, as they celebrated their first night of the school year at Hogwarts.

[][][][]

 **A/N:** And cut! Another chapter done.

I can't help but feel I didn't capture George's humor correctly. Usually, in real life, I can make satisfactory remarks about the situations I'm in that are loaded like a baby's diaper with sarcasm, but I'm finding it harder to do in writing. Maybe because I'm the one who imagine's up those situations?

I'm also accepting ideas for pranks. Sooner or later my prank tank (hey, that rhymed!) will run empty, and I'll be stuck. Until then, be ready to expect some cliche and cheesy prank ideas!

I got my first review on this story (thanks BreathingStar), and I fixed a few mistakes pointed out to me, such as the biscuit mentioned in the last chapter. As well, I tried to add characterization, so I notified a friend, who is a school renown sarcasm expert...unfortunately, she just laughed at my pitiful attempts instead of helping. Whatev.

Again, criticism is appreciated. I do have a beta, but I've lost contact with her at the moment, and haven't been able to stamp out mistakes that she would've spotted. Hopefully, she'll see this and **remember to PM me...!**

There, that should do it. Bye for now!

UWttS


	3. Chapter 3

George was rudely awakened by what he is sure to be a screechy banshee that swallowed a fly, then a spider, then a bird, then a cat, and so on and so forth, before throwing it all back up over a siren, who got angry and decided to embody the spirit of a banshee, and the resulting sound is a combination of siren, banshee, and strep throat.

In other words, Sirius's morning voice.

"Wake up Weasley!" A yell entirely too cheerful and loud to be released in the morning bombarded George's poor eardrums, or more specifically, eardrum.

He jerked upright, glancing around wildly, half-expecting an attack. He took in Sirius smiling impishly and the other three all in various states of disarray (James tangled up in his bedsheets on the ground, Peter clutching his head, and Remus groaning on the floor), and promptly sunk back into his bed covers.

The blankets were just as quickly ripped off, and George shivered as cold air hit his skin, raising goosebumps. He sat up, glaring at a smirking Sirius. Deciding to ignore him as punishment, he turned to the three disheveled boys.

"Lovely, quiet, morning, isn't it?" He asked, accepting their half-hearted greetings in return, absently checking if his ear glamour was still in place. Last night he had decided to ditch the hat, and instead used a spell he had found while trying to make his appearance all around less disorienting when around guests or children. He was now a bit rusty, after not using it during the war, so he probably would have to replace it after breakfast.

Another change to his appearance was his now darker hair. As his freckles were diminished (a result of time travel, or had he just never noticed it before?), the reddish brown hair didn't clash, and it made him look significantly different from before.

George glanced at Sirius, who had turned away in a huff at being ignored, and was now evidently getting ready to go shower. George's eyes narrowed as he noticed the ready made clothes already in his hands. He met Sirius' gaze as they both realized that there was only one shower.

Both boys sprinted towards the baths, only ever hesitating to jump over Remus who was still on the floor. Sirius got their first, but George tugged on his sleeve from behind, and Sirius went down. George paused outside the door long enough to stick his tongue out at a crumpled Sirius (the childish action was both a relief and a worry, for George knew that he couldn't afford to be so carefree, because he was in a _bloody war_...was...) and disappeared into the bathroom.

* * *

Seeing the Great Hall was a little less jarring as it was when he first walked in, but a bit more mentally tiring all the same. Now that he got over his nervousness about the Sorting, all he could see wherever he looked were destroyed tables, tumbling walls, spells flying through the air, more than half of them being an unearthly green.

Instead of turning away, distracting himself, doing anything that he was sure that anyone else would do, George looked straight at the imaginary carnage, and then focused on the image underneath. This tactic, in his experience (he was the team physiologist, after all) worked much better than any others. It allowed his mind to replace the old images with the new, untarnished ones.

Of course, it looked strange to the other students, to see the transfer student staring intensely at seemingly nothing, ignoring most everything around him.

But no one approached him about it, as none of them were close enough friends (the four Marauders had only met him yesterday, after all, and that wasn't enough purpose to check on him, despite the camaraderie that was apparent in the morning), so George sat in the Great Hall, absently eating breakfast while his mind continued to replace his memories.

Soon, though, Remus came over. At the sound of approaching footsteps, George shook himself out of his stupor and looked at the werewolf.

"Yes?"

"Well, since you're new and all," Remus started, twisting his hands nervously, "I was wondering if you'd like some help getting around."

"What, you don't think I can do it by myself?" George smirked. "I'm happy you have so much faith in me."

Remus just grinned, though the sarcastic comment seemed to have lessened his tension.

"Yeah, that would be nice." George answered, reminding himself to keep his cover. "Don't know how anyone can manage their way through this school without a map."

"Most first years get pretty lost too," Remus smiled. While George was sure that he didn't mean the implied lip, it still was an insult.

"So you're comparing me to a measly first year?" He thundered.

"No!" Remus looked panicked for a second, before he caught sight of George's face. "You're having me on!" He accused, the most emotion he had shown all day (which hasn't been that long, to be fair).

"Why would you ever suspect that?" George put on his best innocent face, though the mischievous crinkle around his eyes somewhat ruined the effect.

"Oh Merlin," Remus shook his head. "It's like a third James or Sirius."

"How dare you!" George gasped. "I will never be James or Sirius...such rabble!" He put his nose in the air and started to stalk off.

"Alright!" Remus laughed. A hand came down on his shoulder, and George automatically stiffened, jerking to throw it off. _An enemy...a Death Eater? No...someone else...spells...bright green...blood..._ George saw Remus's apprehensive face staring at him. Instantly realizing what happened, he tried for a smile.

"Unhand me, fiend!" He cried, trying to get back into the childish atmosphere of their earlier bantering as well as giving an explanation for his actions.

Remus studied him for a second, worrying George. Then the werewolf responded with a grin and a cutting remark, and all the tension leaked away.

* * *

George sighed, twirling his quill between his hands. Ink clotted up on one end, the other covered in soft feathers that tempted George to pull them all out. The parchment in front of him held a few scrawled out words, but was otherwise blank. The browned paper was blindingly bright in George's eyes, causing him to blink excessively.

In the front of the classroom, McGonagall lectured excessively, waving her wand to make white markings appear on the dark green board. As it was the first day, McGonagall was reviewing the overall year syllabus, as well as a quick lecture on one of the branches of transfiguration, Transforming.

At least, it was supposed to be quick. Instead, the words seemed to stretch across minutes to become one big blur, boring George to the point of quiet (usually he and his brother would've caused a huge ruckus by now). While George was sure that what McGonagall was saying was important, judging by the quill scratching sounding through the classroom, after already hearing it repeated and drilled in for a year once before, now it was just redundant, not to mention mind numbing.

George was determined to learn more this time around. In his seventh year, he and his brother both already knew most of the material. They were quite smart, knowing a wide variety of spells that were needed for more complex pranks. They just didn't apply that to the O.W.L.s. In fact, they had purposely bombed them in order to soften the blow of when they started a joke shop. It was their dream- they weren't going to not follow it because of their own mother, no matter how much they loved her. But they knew how much it would hurt her, so if she never expected much of them to begin with...well, it did hurt a bit, but at least they achieved their dream.

But it became a bit of a problem later on in the 'war'. While George could defend himself fine, subjects that he never had the chance to take like Runes or Arithmancy could've been extremely useful in creating -and breaking- wards.

So this time around, he applied to both Arithmancy and Runes instead of Divination or Care of Magical Creatures. Also, it would be useful if he started to learn more defense tactics and spells, as he barely knew anything about them before, as a result of poor teaching (except for their second year and fifth year teachers).

Sirius and James were behind him, scribbling furiously on a parchment that lay in between them on the shared desk. From what little George was able to glimpse from casual glances, they were writing the spellwork physics needed to carry out a prank. Something to do with Vanishing Charms... maybe he could ask to join in. He already knew Vanishing charms, and could probably help them out, passing it off as extra tutoring at Uagadu.

Remus was taking notes, though every so often his eyes flickered to the book hidden in his lap. Whenever Remus caught George looking at him, he sent a little smile, which was returned with an eye roll.

Peter was also writing something, presumably notes, though his eyes glazed over a few times. George couldn't find it within himself to hate him, especially considering how normal he looked sitting there like a standard student.

Actually, looking around more, George could see the younger versions of people he had seen in the photo of the old Order Harry had shown him. There was McKinnon...and wasn't that Meadowes over there?

The recognition brought on a more gruesome fact to mind. All these people would die in the war. Some would have children, husbands, wives, that they left behind. And they would still die. He couldn't change anything about that.

Why couldn't he? When Dumbledore told him that he couldn't change their deaths, that everyone would still die at the same times (leaving Harry an orphan, leaving Teddy by himself). But that couldn't be true...if so, than by the time this timeline caught up with his old one, the same people would be the only ones alive. And that is a future with the same result as the last one. It would be useless, George coming back, if no one was saved. Utterly useless.

That decided it for George. The second his classes were over, he was going straight to the library. There must be some books on the theory of time travel. Also, it would be good to grab a few books on Animagi, if there are any. That way he could give the Marauders the idea (if they haven't already thought of it) and learn a bit about it himself. He managed to figure out his animal during the practice sessions in the war, but without a good source, they couldn't figure out what to do next, as all the bookstores found had been burned in an effort to 'rid the world of useless knowledge'.

"Mr. Weasley!" A near shout brought him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see McGonagall towering over him, looking thoroughly irritated.

George flashed a cocky smile. "Did you need something Profesor?"

"Would you be so kind as to answer my question?" McGonagall sent a pointed look.

"Would you be so kind as to repeat the question?" George asked back.

McGonagall huffed through her nostrils at the scattered laughter that followed, though George could've sworn he saw her mouth twitch.

"A point from Gryffindor for lack of attention. Now, explain to me the branches of Transfiguration."

"Shouldn't you already know that, Professor?" George hid a smirk at McGonagall's increasingly more livid face. He felt he reserved the rights to torture her, as a (former? future?) student. Also it would probably get him in good books with the Marauders.

Suddenly McGonagall's face smoothed over with impressive calm.

"I see that you've been quite heavily influenced by your yearmates." McGonagall said dryly, and a glance towards James and Sirius showed that they were smirking proudly.

"Oh, never influenced, ma'am. Only encouraged." George smiled wider.

"Then Merlin help us all," McGonagall shook her head in a rare sign of amusement. "But in the meant time, would you the answer the question. And it is to test your knowledge, not mine."

"Would never consider otherwise, Professor." George continued. "There are four branches of Transfiguration, Transformation, Switching, Vanishment, and Conjuration. Though Untransfiguration could also be one."

"Correct." McGonagall gave him a searching look. "Though we've only discussed the first four." George shrugged unashamedly.

The rest of the lecture was spent with George puzzling out how he should act in order to be as normal-seeming as possible. He really didn't feel up to limiting his knowledge to seem as a blundering idiot, but knew that being too proficient in certain areas can easily arouse suspicion. As well, it would do good to build up a reputation for himself as temperamental and cheeky (not to mention dashingly handsome), and display most all his superficial emotions on his face. It would trick others into thinking he had nothing to hide, would cover if he had any bursts of real untamed emotion, and anyway fits the expected from his age group.

George nearly shuddered at his thoughts, and then mentally berated himself for doing so. He had was thinking along decidedly Slytherin lines, and (in a fit of old House prejudism (which he could've sworn he had gotten rid of during the war)) had disliked himself for doing so. It was a character flaw George was determined to get rid of, both for the sake of the ruse and because it was an admittedly childish and idiotic thought in the mind of an adult.

As a youth (both mentally and physically) he had not been terribly bad to the Slytherins in comparison to some of his kin, though they somehow seemed to be repeatedly on the wrong end of pranks, but still held that genial apprehension that all blood traitors held towards the snakes. George had been prompted by Harry to put that as past, especially when Draco joined their war vigilante.

Of course, in being less opinionated towards them, George ran the risk of offending James and Sirius who were obviously at the top of the hierarchy of the group(no offense meant to Remus), and hated the Slytherins with a passion that may have spawned from both James's parents (as respectful as George was sure they are) and Sirius's rocky relationship with his notoriously Slytherin family.

The latter could possibly be fixed by connecting Sirius with Regulus once more, and healing any old wounds. The older Sirius despised Regulus for things done when he was much older, but was close to him as young children. Also, George could see in the few short months they had been with Sirius that he did hold a somewhat muted respect for the pureblood society and political maneuvering, but as a child had been bitter and moody about them, which reached a peak soon after he met James. If he could get Sirius to respect them once more, than the possibilities were endless...a political ally...

And then there was Dumbledore.

George honestly did not know what to do about him. In his old world, Dumbledore had been revealed as a manipulating git, though he had good intentions. And he did have a lot of power in he wizarding world.

If only he hadn't appeared in Dumbledore's office. Then George could've pretended to be a normal student (one who, importantly, did not come from the past), and be free from Dumbledore's scheming. Well, what's done is done. He would have to try to distance himself, if possible.

George was startled from his thoughts when a hand roughly shook his shoulder. Keeping his instinct reaction to just a muted jerk, he looked up to see Remus blinking down at him.

"Class is over." Remus said, giving George a searching look.

George nodded in thanks, taking note of the mostly void classroom. He hefted his bag onto his shoulder, easily carrying it with the help of an Anti Gravity Charm. He could think about all this later. For now, it was time to head to the library...after his classes, of course.

Remus watched on, bemused, as George slapped himself on the forehead while simultaneously letting out a loud groan.

* * *

Severus Snape was one of those who seemed distinctly uninterested with what was going around him.

In actuality, he was always watching, always analyzing the moves and actions of his peers. He wasn't a Slytherin for nothing, after all.

Lily (his best friend turned not-so-best friend to now just friend), Potter, and Black (the former because of the sheer pigheadedness of his actions, and the latter because he just couldn't get out of his head how the young black heir had behaved before Hogwarts in political gatherings) all were the only ones who could surprise him. Even so, it wasn't a frequent occurrence.

So it was to no one's surprise (or perhaps everyone's, looking at his social extensions and is ability of hiding behind a mask) that Severus was observing the new transfer student intently. But a few things were different about his usual observations, and that surprised him.

First, he had no good read on the student...Weasley, Severus thought. A name that was part blood traitor (based on the claims of about half of the extensive family) and part pure blooded. At least for now, Weasley was safe from any comments relating to his blood status. But as a Gryffindor...

Second, Severus was actually interested, and in a loose sense of the world, enthralled, by Weasley This was uncommon, as usually Severus was surrounded by mindless gossip and painstakingly obvious actions (they most all seemed the same; extremely brash, quick to anger, loyal to friends, snappy to anyone else, and the occasional bookworm) from those who were in Gryffindor, but-

But this Gryffin was different. Severus watched him walk down the steps into the Great Hall, without the signature Weasley hair (an oddity in itself), and carefully and smoothly maneuver himself into the Gryffin Brigade as they were called, fitting in seamlessly as he talked with Lupin about what seemed to be academics, laughed and made snarky jokes in return with Black and Potter, and even manage to include the fat lump of Pettigrew (honestly, Severus had no idea why he was part of the group).

It was as if he was always there. Severus even saw him talking with some of the girls, Lily Evans included. While usually this would make him bristle with protectiveness, instead Severus was carefully watching. Watching, like some of his fellow Slytherins were doing, as Weasley slipped through the ranks in a way that made it an absolute _scandal_ that he wasn't in Slytherin. Cunning of that nature had no place in Gryffindor, and it made Severus frown inwardly.

Why was he in with the Gryffindorks? Did he have some kind of hidden bravery that the Hat had seen in the reaches of his mind? But surely Weasley wouldn't have put so much effort into befriending those four, who were, in Severus's eyes, distinctly not agreeable. Unless he was that desperate for popularity...

But no, there was a quiet dignity about him. One that would never accept something as childish as trying to be popular.

So why? How? What? And many other one worded questions?

George Weasley is an anomaly, one that Severus was't sure whether to solve or entirely ignore in passage to his sanity.

* * *

George in the Hogwarts library, biting the end of his quill in an old habit that had resurfaced in the face of researching as if he still was in school. He was currently looking up some of the time travel theories. Most were either insanely impossible, or found in a book where it is obvious by the rest of the writing that the author is a crackpot.

The few that were refutable were also unwelcome. Most of them stated a bad end for the time traveller in question. Some conclude that it can cause an end for the whole universe.

George managed to come up with a near plausible explanation of time travel. First, when travelling back in time, the appearance of the traveler automatically causes a change in the past. This can either a) somehow fit into the old future (as in, the future that was left behind when one time traveled) in a way that made it seem like it was never realized until then (e.g. time loops), or b) destroy the old future, and create an entirely new one.

If the latter happens, then it is possible that the new future doesn't include the person going back in time, meaning they never went back in time, meaning that the old future was never destroyed, the new future never created. Ultimately, the moral of option b is that you can't change the past and/or you shouldn't mess with time.

Neither option looked very good, so George had searched around some more. An hour (and 21 books) later, he had come upon the concept of alternate dimensions.

Basically, if the time turner thing he had used both travelled time and dimensions, than he could be in an alternate dimension. If that happened, George would be exempt from any of the above paths, and could fashion the future in any way.

The only problem with this, is that being in an alternate dimension usually has divergence points from the original dimension. Hopefully, the divergence points were either too small for George to notice and to make much of a butterfly effect(say, a Muggle choosing ice cream instead of cookies), or they are different in a part of history that he wasn't familiar with in the old world, resulting in him not noticing them.

Overall, all George can really do is hope that he was in an alternate dimension. Then he would be unlimited to fix anyone's lives.

While flipping through the pages of musty books, George's mind kept going back to Dumbledore. Dumbledore had said that George couldn't stop people's death, which was somewhat reasonable. But apparently he hadn't looked at the loopholes. If George was no in an alternate dimension, then he could save anyone's life without worrying about the repercussions on a 'fabric-of-time-and-space' scale.

Was it just a spot of blindness on Dumbledore's part? Or did he have some grander master plan involved? Whatever it is, George wasn't sure he could trust the seemingly harmless headmaster any more.

[][][][]

 **A/N:** And finally another chapter done! Even if it is more of a filler chapter, and somehow reminds me of a textbook readout put on loop...

I apologize for the super long wait, and I could give an extensively long list of reasons as to why it took so long. But I won't because I really want to get this up as soon as possible.

There's a bit of time travel theorizing at the end, and while it isn't critical the story, it would still be a good idea to read it.

Also, review! I know that I usually don't ask for reviews, but one review (as lovely a review as it was) on one of my favorite stories is a bit downheartening. Just a tiny bit. To steal an over used but true line; reviews feed the writers soul. And imagination. And, like, everything else. Except a pig. And some other animals. Yeah. Everything else, though. Yup, Tony Stark too.

Till' next time,

UWttS


	4. Chapter 4

George woke up to silence.

For a second he stayed in bed drinking it in, because he had forgotten how damn tiring it was to live with other boys who don't know the meaning of shut up. Any lack of noise was a gift, and right now, it felt like Christmas.

Then a slight panic seeped in. _Why_ was it silent? Even when everyone was asleep, loud snores could usually be heard. Now, it was quiet, and that, paired with the darkness, immediately put George on guard.

He has been working all week to tone down his honed reflexes to a more normal level. It wouldn't do for him to startle every time someone was tactile (Which was surprisingly often; playful pushes, arms slung over shoulders, hand shakes, a stopping arm, an annoying poke, and terrifyingly, tickles). He was already odd enough, coming into Hogwarts already thirteen.

So now George was wondering if it was a bad thing, because if someone really had kidnapped him, and that's why it was so silent-

He put out a hand blindly, scrambling for his wand. The second he put a hand around the familiar wood, the end lit up with a harsh blue glow, blinding him.

Once his eyes had adjusted, George could see that he was still inside his red and gold dorm. But the silence...

George climbed out of bed, wand up, and made his way to the nearest bed (Remus's). Swiftly he pulled back the covers, revealing a lump. He was about to sigh at his paranoia and go back to bed when he spotted the corner of a pillow peeking out from the blanket.

Pulling it back, he saw three pillows, all lumped together to make it look like someone was sleeping there. And no Remus.

Suspicion rising, George stumbled over to the other beds, no longer worried for waking anyone up. The other beds yielded the same results: pillows used in a poor imitation of a body under covers.

Blearily, George blinked. Dismissing the notion that maybe the Marauders wanted privacy and that's why they went through such pains to make it seem that they were still asleep (as pitiful the attempts were), he opened the dormitory door and headed for the common room.

Sure enough, low voices drifted up the staircase. George carefully hid himself in the shadows, and listened carefully to what the boys were saying.

"-let him in!" James was arguing heatedly. "It wouldn't make sense!"

"How wouldn't it make sense?" Sirius replied, similarly angry, causing George to stifle a gasp because _were they really arguing_? "We should give him a chance, just because he's the new kid-"

"How much of a chance?" Remus interjected. "We have secrets that we can't afford for anyone to find out. My...illness..." Everyone stilled.

"Remus," Peter started in a voice so gentle that it was startling. "You know that we will do our best to keep him from finding out, right?"

"And even if he did," James continued, matching Peter's tone. "We would beat the crap out of him if he dared to hurt you in anyway."

"Yeah," Sirius agreed. "I did find a good spell in te library the other day that I could use..."

James gasped. "Why, Sirius Black in the library? What has the world come to?"

"Hey!" Sirius protested, though he didn't immediately shoot back a sharp retort like he would if someone was actually insulting him. "I read, too."

"Oh, and that's why you spend almost every waking moment avoiding books like a plague?" Remus said dryly, no hint of any earlier weaknesses in his words.

There was a bit more bickering between the four, before they turned solemn once more.

"No one can just be part of our group, just like that." James snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"Then we wait. No, Remus, I'm talking here," Sirius raised his hand as if to physically stop Remus, whose mouth shut closed. "I'm not saying we should all hold hands and make daisy chains-" James snorted. "-but how about we don't exclude him, because that's downright cruel, considering we're his dorm mates. But when he proves himself to us, which in my opinion he already has-"

"How has he?" James scowled. "Sure, he's funny, but-"

"He's almost exactly like you." Peter pointed out. "Loyal, hilarious, brave, reckless...with a smaller ego, though."

A few chuckles, then silence.

"We can talk about this later." Remus said finally. "For now, though, it's time to go to bed."

They all nodded their agreement, and stifling yawns, got up from their perches on various chairs and tables.

George quickly retreated, diving into bed and pulling the covers over (a thrill reminiscent of the old days, when he and his friends would eavesdrop to hear in on adult conversations) just as Peter opened the door.

As they entered, the four in turn casted glances over George, who's eyes were peering out from under his eyelashes. They stumbled into bed, and soon the cacophony of snores started up again.

George rolled over, feeling discomfited. Over the past week he had been getting quite close to the four others. He had started hanging out with them, and had even done a few pranks. Students were whispering at what seemed to be the newest addition to the Marauders (not that they were known as that yet). He had thought that he was actually accepted.

Actually accepted. A part of a new family. Accepted.

The logical part of George understood why they were wary, why they didn't completely trust him, but he still couldn't help being hurt by it. It had been so long since he had been part of such carefree dynamics, been able to laugh and smile and be mischievous.

The rest of the night was spent pondering since when was George so, for lack of a better word, _angsty,_ and thinking upon said angst (George suspected it was from the war (And isn't that thought angsty in within itself?)).

It shouldn't hurt, he barely knew them. Just because he knew there future selves (kind of) doesn't mean that he should expect them to be as close knit as they already are to each other. It shouldn't hurt, it shouldn't feel like a betrayal at all...

Damn angst.

* * *

Despite what others may think, Lily Evans was never one of those early birds.

Yet recently, with rising tensions with the raids on Muggle villages and the strained relationship between herself and Petunia, as well as the want for some _peace and quiet_ , Lily found herself waking up at the near break of dawn.

As she could never stay in the Gryffindor common room for too long without feeling somewhat choked by the red and gold (which just happened to be Petunia's favorite color), Lily usually went down to the Great Hall. There usually was never any one there except for the occasional early rising teacher, and she'd sit with a plate of food brought up by the house elves and a book, drinking in the calm.

As one of Lily's favorite things about that past time was the lack of students, she was she opened the doors to a figure sitting at the Gryffindor table.

A closer look revealed them to be the new transfer student, Weasley. He was sitting with his head bowed over numerous papers scattered in front of him, scribbling furiously with a quill. He also had a stack of books on one side, and had a pile of quills in the other, some with broken nibs. Occasionally he would pause, and look over his parchment, before taking what Lily realized to be a Muggle pen and using it for a few lines, before grimacing and switching back to quill.

The sight was so bizarre compared to what Lily's previous view of him was that she stopped short, just watching him.

It was odd, she mused. Before Weasley was very much the jokester, always hanging around with Potter and Black. Seeing him with them had immediately led Lily to the conclusion that he had joined the dark side (Lily had a feeling that this boy would've understood that reference had she spoken out loud), and was just as immature and stuck up.

But to see him labouring over a parchment with books and quills and a _muggle pen_ , which was rare enough on it's own...maybe he was better friends with Remus than the others.

Or maybe he was actually a self created genius who was desperate to make friends, and so tried to act cool to get in with the 'in' crowd, and when he finally revealed his true colors he would get kicked out of the in group but wouldn't care because he had finally found true friends with the school nerd and they who he was in a love affair with, and they all lived happily ever after, except for the old 'in' crowd who became the school pariahs.

Lily wouldn't mind if Potter and Black became school pariahs, though Remus (And Peter to an extent, but she didn't know the boy very well) she would rather have him stay popular.

The whole idea made her snicker, and with the sound Weasley's head snapped towards her.

Slightly unnerved by the quick reaction yet wanting to hide it, she mustered up a nervous smile.

"Morning!" She said brightly, trying to act somewhat nonchalant. She swallowed another laugh when she saw Weasley wince at the admittedly loud noise, especially so early in the day.

"Morning." He echoed back, looking confusingly confused. Lily walked over, and after a slight hesitation (Should I sit with him? Should I sit at another table?) and a squashing of stereotypes (He may not be like Black or Potter at all...), she sat opposite to him.

There was an awkward silence in which both parties stared at each other, before Lily reached out with her hand.

"I'm Lily Evans."

"I'm George Weasley."

Cue second awkward silence. Merlin, why was it so odd to talk to this boy?

"Well, I'm just going to go back to..." Weasley trailed off, gesturing at the papers in front of him with quill still clutched in hand.

"Of course. Don't mind me."

Weasley opened his mouth as if to say something, then snapped it close. Lily watching curiously, he returned to his writing, though Lily could see that the wariness had not left his stance.

She opened her book to her bookmark, but her mind kept drifting to what the freckled boy was writing. To wake up so early in the morning to do this, especially since it still was near the beginning of school... Lily shook her head it was none of her business, anyway. She resolutely tried to get back to her book.

But Lily has has always been a curious girl, and this was just eating at her. More than once she would not so subtly peer at the writing under the pretense of stretching.

Weasley shifted uncomfortably every time she did that, like he knew what Lily was doing, but he didn't remark until the fourth or fifth time.

"Curiousity killed the cat, you know." He said, an amused smile being the only thing that undermined his accusing tone. Lily flushed, before straightening her spine.

"Well, I'm not a cat, so it doesn't apply."

"Then curiousity killed the human."

"I've never heard that story as a child."

"It's a bit gruesome for anyone younger than school age."

"Then how did you hear of it?"

"I'm school aged."

"And I'm not?"

"Must've had overprotective parents."

Lily grinned. She had slipped so easily into banter with this near stranger as if he was one of her friends. It was odd (And wasn't that a word she has been using much to often to describe this Weasley?) and somewhat suspicious, but also nice.

"Weasley, isn't it?"

"Call me George. Nice to meet you, Flower Girl."

"Flower Girl?" Lily huffed in amusement, and chose to ignore the second part of his statement.

"I can't really think of anything better, at the moment."

Lily snorted. "Putting that aside, what were you writing?"

"Nothing you need to know, is it?"

Lily ignored the warning tone in his voice and plowed on. "Why don't you tell me?"

George surveyed her carefully. When he spoke, Lily felt as if he was measuring his words carefully. "Well, I'm trying to read up on some arithmacy, because I haven't been doing so well," he gestured towards some books that had related titles down their spines. "But then I found a reference to time travel, and was curious, so I decided I would try and work out some theory."

Lily found her mouth hanging open as George went on to explain, talking about different names and theories that left her mind spinning as she struggled to catch up.

It was curious, because it was blatantly obvious how passionate George was about the subject.

There was an odd fervor behind his words, a determination to do something, fueled by a goal so strong and world entrancingly important that George had to fix it, because who else would...? It was a matter of life and death.

Lily shook her head at the absurd notion. Why would a thirteen year old be concerned with such adult matters? Yes there was some kind of motive to this heavy research, but surely not one so important that George found it necessary to do all this?

The fact is that 'all this' was exceedingly impressive. The pure tactical effort being put was surprising, and it seemed as more than just an attempt to learn, more like the taking advantage of an... _affinity_ of some sort.

But an affinity to what? Reading, researching, writing...all such seemed to not be enough to cover it. Theorizing? Perhaps, though Lily couldn't help but get the feeling that it was something more magnetizing, more intriguing, that caused Lily to halt her roundabout thoughts and actually listen to what George was saying.

She always liked to look into people's actions, see what they do and why they did it. People watching was one of her favorite activities as a child. To the red head, George was like a new specimen, as odd as that sounded.

Each word was carefully measured, yet held an casual tone as if it was formed on the fly. It sounded as if he lectured quite often. With sarcastic quips and sentences designed to capture ones attention-

And make them actually listen. Actually take what was said to heart, and act upon it in whatever way necessary, even if the topic needed no such action.

While most would be vaguely interested in this charisma, dismissing it as a skill and little more, Lily was fascinated. And jealous.

With this, Lily mused while she laughed at yet another joke, anyone would listen to George, would hear him speak and be convinced that what he says is obviously right. It's a beautiful skill, one honed by months of practice.

Or maybe Lily was just looking too much into it. Maybe she was over exaggerating things. She decided to put the thought out of her head for the time being.

"Hey Flower Girl?" Lily blinked in surprise, seeing George waving a hand in front of her face. "What's wrong?" She realized she had been staring off into space for the past few minutes.

"Are you going to keep calling me that?" Lily asked instead of answering his question. George let it go but there was a touch to his gaze that made her squirm with discomfort over her blatant change of subject. Then he grinned and it all got washed away.

"Maybe. Though I may have to change it."

"Well, tell me when you think of one." Lily smiled.

"Will do." George saluted her, before rising from the bench. With a start, Lily realized that all his stuff was packed into his bag.

"Where are you going?" Lily wondered.

"Aw, is little Lilykeins gonna miss me?" Lily scowled at the name, though she mentally took note of the surprise that flitted across George's face at his own words.

"I'm going to drop my stuff off at the dorms, then I'll come down for more breakfast." He explained, before hoisting up his bag and leaving without much more of a goodbye.

Lily huffed as she stared after him, before opening her book. She needed some good old Jane Austen to soothe her mind after that display.

* * *

George found himself in the library for the sixth time this week.

He had gone there often for more research material, and once to compose himself so he would be able to put an act on in front of his dorm mates after hearing the incriminating conversion.

Meetings with many students at Hogwarts, some of which George knew would be crippled or worse by the up and coming war, strengthened his resolve. To see them whole and alive, to actually talk to them and be able to imagine what life would've been like if they were there...if George failed any of them, he deserves nothing less than hell.

 _Maybe he was being dramatic._

Lily Evans. A bright, fiercely loyal, and brilliant girl. An amazing friend to Snape, a loving mother to Harry, a witty mother in law to George...if she had lived.

Frank Longbottom. A brave, loud, and witty boy. A soothing son to Augusta, a beacon of hope and admiration to Neville, the auror uncle to George...if he hadn't tried to protect his wife.

Alice Prewett. A quiet, shy and friendly girl. A helpful daughter in law to Augusta, a comforting mother to Neville, a kind Healer to George...if she hadn't tried to fight back.

George had met all three over the past week. Frank at the Owlery trying to get his wayward owl to accept a letter, Alice at Herbology, trying to strangle a plant into not strangling her (apparently Neville's prowess didn't come from his mother), and Lily after she had walked in to him working on some papers in the Great Hall.

Before, they were just names. Names of people who had died, and while _oh, I feel so sorry for the family_ may occur, past that, there's no connection.

Now, though, those names had people and personalities to go with them. And George was feeling pressured by how he now had even more motivation to save them from their fates.

At least with James, he had some sort of expectation ready, with the whole Marauder thing. And the others...they all survived, if slightly worse for wear (cough* cough* _traitor_ ).

George shook his head, causing his shaggy brown hair to get into his eyes. He scowled, and brushed them away. Stupid glamour.

He tried to focus on the tome in front of him, but the words swam and did cartwheels across the page. He leaned back, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

The time traveler was distracted. By what, George knew, though he didn't want to confront it. He had been so focused on his own house that he had completely ignored the others, resulting in a huge problem occurring.

He, in all the turmoil of the last few weeks, had forgotten that the boy with the ponytail, the girl who sat a few seats away from him, the kid he had chatted with for a few seconds when partnered together...

All were Death Eaters.

All would grow up to kill, to hurt, to wreck havoc upon the Wizarding World.

George knew that he would be meeting the younger versions of his future enemies. In fact, he expected it. But he never had properly looked at the problem.

George had seen the still-greasy haired version of his former Potions Professor, which had caused him to double take and barely say a word to anyone the Potions class.

(He had managed to assuage the Marauders worries with a simple "He reminded me of someone", as they were still wary of his past.)

But when early this morning, he was faced with _Lucius Malfoy_ , of all things (not people - never people, after what the _thing_ did.), in all his pristine, long haired Death Eater-ness...

Well, who said George was discreet? If the self-proclaimed prince of Slytherin found himself waking up to a new hairstyle, who could hardly blame George? It was better then giving in to his intent to _kill killkill_

Malfoy definitely got off lightly, and while it gave him vindictive pleasure, it also gave thought to a new question.

What the hell was he going to do with the people he knew were Death Eaters?

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A/N: Hi! Sorry for the long wait, I may have gotten a little lax when it came to updating. I actually was going to continue this for a bit more, but I'm at a block, and I want to update as soon as possible. So here it is; enjoy! And review, of course.

P.S: Thanks for any reviews so far!


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